Chapter Twelve

Cass and Billy continue to be pulled toward each other in the midst of continued conflict and violence within the group.

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Some of this podcast has been recorded on equipment from the Billings Public Library Co+Lab. Thanks to Renee Barratt of The Cover Counts for the cover design. Music by Mikhail Smusev from Pixabay.

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Welcome back to the serialized podcast production of The Scarring Underneath, written and performed by T. S. Dickerson. Chapter 12. The worst part of being at odds with her brother was not having answers people assumed she'd know. Cass was approached daily by members of the group, wondering when they were going to slow, stop to rest, and most often wondering when they were going to hunt again. Cass felt as worn as the rest of them, and her belly rumbled just as often. Her relationship with Cam was frayed, her friendship with Lena destroyed, and whatever had been happening between her and Billy, well, that was probably over. If it hadn't been for Drew, she wouldn't have bothered to remain civil to anyone, especially after the embarrassing debacle of the night before last. After Lena had outed everyone, Cass had attempted to ride separately from Billy. She'd expected him to try to follow her to a new traveling spot further up in the caravan with Drew, but he hadn't. She guessed he hadn't appreciated being likened to a lovesick puppy dog by Lena, or a livestock by Derrick. But she'd only made it for about an hour before a worry spasmed through her, causing her limbs to twitch with restlessness. She hadn't liked Derrick's declaration that he blamed the two of them for the deaths, and Billy hadn't even been quick enough to keep Lena from taking his knife. She worried he wouldn't be able to defend himself against Derrick's eager goons if a situation arose. Not to mention she still had a nagging sense they were being followed. So she'd taken her leave from an amused Drew and brought Cowboy into step with smoke at the rear of the group. But the next two days had been as awkward and silent as the ones before. One of them would catch the other glancing in his or her direction, and they'd quickly look away. On the second day after the scene at dinner, they came to a stop earlier than expected in a river valley. The water was slow running in the drought, but it was water. Cam and Derek had scouted a couple of miles downstream and found a sparsely wooded area with game trails. It seemed they would be staying more than one night here, and the chances of fresh meat for dinner tomorrow were good. Cam rode up to the two of them before they'd even had a chance to dismount. Cass was surprised to see Cam sidling his horse up next to hers. He met her gaze, his eyes more gentle than angry. I'm planning to show Hank and Derek what bow hunting is all about tomorrow, Cam said. Any recommendations? Duct tape for Derek's mouth? Cass said. Cam laughed, and then turned to locate Derrick, silencing himself. Cass didn't crack a smile. I'm not coming then, I take it, she said. Cam let out a breath. I don't think it's a good idea for you to come. Either of you. He lifted his chin toward Billy, as if tossing the words over to him. Cass tried to hold her tongue, but her thoughts burst out in a whisper despite her. Why? I made a mistake, so suddenly I'm not useful at all. I get that you're punishing me, but Cam Cassidy enough, Cam said. I don't want any drama tomorrow, that's all. I said you're still my second, or at least you will be, when you remember how to be cautious and diplomatic again. Goodbye. Cam slammed his heels into Madison's sides, and the horse shot forward and away. Cowboy shied, and Cass was shaking with anger, further agitating him. She freed her feet from the stirrups and swung down from his back, glorying in the sharp concussion of her boots on the packed earth. Cass had been having nightmares of Katie and Conrad, David, and Rain. Almost every night she'd seen the ways they might have died. She knew they'd all died of gunshot wounds, but her subconscious often cooked up more gruesome ends. Sometimes it was Lena or Darcy who died. Sometimes it was Billy. She stood on a ridge overlooking the camp. Her watch was uneventful, and she couldn't keep the nightmares from haunting her even when wakefulness should have brought relief. So she paced and alternated her gaze between the goings on down at the camp and the open space on higher ground. She hummed the song that had twirled and teased inside her memory for months, and tried to remember the lyrics. And when all else failed, when she couldn't stop herself thinking of the dead, she let her mind slip to the few good memories she had of each of them alive. She got stuck in a memory of Conrad. The day had been like today, warm and exhausting, and it had been sunset then too. She'd watched Conrad as he watched Katie with such love and longing. The love was like Cam's for Trista, but the longing was something Cass could neither define nor compare. Did Conrad think of Katie when he died? Was his final thought her dark hair in its charming pixie cut? Her laugh or the soft touch of her fingers on his arm. God, I hope it, Cass said aloud. She hoped it fiercely, partly because she wanted to think he hadn't had time to feel pain or fear, but mostly she hoped he hadn't died regretting the things he'd never said to Katie, the chance he'd never taken. Cass moved back to the edge of the ridge and looked down at the people again. This time her eyes scanned the crowd with purpose. There had been time for some fishing before dark. Billy had been a model student as Drew and Trista taught him how to clean a fish. He ate with the two of them as well. Trista seemed to be at odds with Cam. The tall man chatted with Hank and kept his distance. Between bites, Trista asked the question Billy had been dying to have answered. Where's Cass tonight? Drew nodded up toward the ridge above. On watch, why? Is she speaking to you? 'Cause she doesn't seem to have much to say to me or Billy. Trista nodded and took a sip of water. I worry about what she's feeling and not saying. Her guilt is loud. She's not guilty, Drew said firmly, looking across the crowd at Cam. She did the right thing. I know, Trista said, earning herself a look of surprise from Drew that mirrored Billy's own shock. But she feels guilty. She's punishing herself, cutting herself off from everyone. Drew shook his head. It's not about punishment, it's about simplifying things. She doesn't think she can keep us safe and love us at the same time. Drew met Billy's gaze pointedly, his expression intense. She doesn't think she can make choices based on what she wants, without losing the warrior in her. She held a lantern in one hand while the other rested against the strap of the rifle on her shoulder. It was Cass, and the way his guts rolled, he was sure she'd been watching him. The figure disappeared, and Billy stood. Good night, he said. He paused and turned back. Thanks. For the disgusting fish lesson. Trista chuckled and waved him away. Drew just fixed him with a lopsided grin that left Billy feeling exposed and uninformed. He went to the table the food was laid out on and piled a bit of the remaining fish and corn onto his plate. Then he set out on the steep upward trail, squinting in the fading daylight. When he neared the top of the trail, his feet stepped into a circle of lantern light, and he squinted up into Cass's face. Then he set out on the steep upward trail, squinting in the fading daylight. When he neared the top of the trail, his feet stepped into a circle of lantern light and he squinted up into Cass's face. What are you doing? she asked, as he crested the rise and paused, catching his breath. He offered the plate of food without answering her question. Her eyes traced their way up his arm to his face. They scanned over him, halting at the knife sheath on his belt. She rolled her shoulder with a frown and let out a sigh as if she had come to some necessary but unwanted decision. That's the same knife, isn't it? she asked, meeting his gaze again before looking back at the knife. Conrads? That's the knife that her voice cracked. That gave me this? he asked. He ran a thumb along the new pink scar that split his cheek, then trailed it down to the shallower scar on his neck. Cass followed the motion of his hands as if they possessed hypnotizing power. Yes, that's the knife. He still held the plate, though his arm had begun to tire. Finally she set her lantern down and took it, walking away to scan the darkened landscape before them. She finished eating, and Billy grew restless, shifting where he stood. She tossed her plastic plate back toward the boulder, and the sound of it striking the rock seemed like an explosion after the quiet. Billy's body tired of standing, he wondered absently what time it was and how long he'd been waiting, wanting to talk to her, wanting her to talk to him. Finally, the tension began to bubble up in him, and he had to speak. I'm sorry, Cassidy, he said in a gush of air. Her shoulders stiffened. For following you, he continued. For complicating things for Katie. She held up a hand, halting his speech. It's not your fault, she said. But why did you follow? Billy knew he couldn't avoid answering again. He ran through a list of responses in his head. Had it been because he wanted to help? Not really. He wasn't naive enough to think he could do anything unarmed. Had he been worried about the wagon's occupants? Yes. But that wasn't why he'd followed. Before he could lose his nerve he dove in. I was worried about you, he said. I didn't want anything to happen to you, and I couldn't help myself. Cass again looked at the knife on his belt. I'll never forget that knife, she said. What I felt when I saw it at your throat. She swallowed hard, and Billy felt his own throat thickening. His heart pounded in his chest so loud that he thought it would startle the people moving off to sleep in the camp below. You don't have to feel responsible for me, Cass. I know it's what you do, but if anything should happen to me, it's she stepped toward him, stopping the flow of his words. Listen, she said, I have a responsibility to keep my family and the members of my group alive, and you became part of that the minute I spoke for you. She caught her breath before charging on. But with you it hasn't been about obligation for a long time. Maybe it never was. Cass began to pace in front of him, and Billy let out a shaky breath, only then realizing he'd been holding it. He tracked her movement as always, refreshed to watch her without trying to hide what he was doing. I have gone over and over what happened in the woods, wondering why I made the choice I made. I've been telling myself it was instinct, the same instinct I ignored when the camp was sabotaged in that orchard, and I know I made the right choice. At least I know I didn't make anything worse that day. But the truth is, if the risks had been greater, I would have chosen the same. Cass's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, her words breathy and damp, as though they also bore unshed tears. I was afraid of losing you. There's something in you that I need. And I am sorry I've been shutting you out. Billy closed the distance between them and took hold of both of her arms, careful to avoid clamping his hand over her injury. He could almost feel the wound as if it were his own. Cass let out a little gasp as he grabbed her, but her ragged breathing soon synchronized with his own. He leaned toward her, aching to kiss her, and saw her lean in as well. Boots scuffed on the dirt trail coming up the side of the ridge, and the two of them parted, whirling to face whoever approached. It was Trace. He shielded his eyes against the shine of the lantern. Cass, he said. And Billy, hello. Billy nodded, suddenly remembering what Cass had said to her brother about screwing Trace. He looked at the tall, lanky man with a new interest and almost laughed when he realized Trace looked quite a bit like himself. He turned to watch Cass's reaction to the man. What's up? Her tone was casual, though her body language was as stiff and startled as his own. Cam sent me to relieve you, Trace said, stepping forward with a slight hesitation, as though sensing he had interrupted something. He gave Billy a nod. You're not hunting tomorrow? Cass asked. Nope, Trace said. Plenty of eager takers for that. I plan to eat and sleep and do nothing. Cass chuckled and swung the rifle down from her shoulder. She offered it to Trace and elbowed him as she passed by. He turned and said, Hey, Cass, about this thing with Cam, I Cass was shaking her head. Don't worry about it. There's no bad blood between you and me ever. Trace nodded. I'll leave my lantern here for you. Then she glanced at Billy as she slowed her step. Walk me back? she asked. Pleasure burst in Billy's chest, and he followed. Cass grabbed her discarded plate. As eager as he was to be alone with her again, it was awkward picking their way back down in the dark. Cass dropped the plate twice. He slipped and almost fell arse over Tit once, and they didn't speak much. The tents were nestled just under the ridge, making the journey far too short. They came to a hesitant halt, watching a few people still milling about, whispering and settling in for the night. I think you could use some more self defense training, she said, looking up through the darkness. Her voice wavered. Billy nodded. I'll find you in the morning. As she started to walk away, Billy reached down and caught her hand. Sensation shot up his arm like electrical current when she closed her fingers around his. He could see she felt the connection too. Billy lowered his voice and whispered Goodnight. Cass gave him a quick half smile and pulled away. She climbed into her tent and zipped it behind her. Billy stood there numb for a few seconds, and then climbed into his own, listening for her movements next door until her soft snoring soothed him to sleep. He hadn't bothered asking what was wrong. He'd never yet managed to pry information out of her. If she needed to talk, she'd talk. Brick trotted out of the tent behind him, and he scratched the dog's chin before patting his leg in an unnecessary invitation. He hurried to the supply wagon where his rod and reel were waiting, and nearly ran headlong into Derrick and Cam. The three men exchanged nods and maneuvered around one another. The two of them were planning the hunt to come. Derek, not a bow hunter, was unarmed and joining just to watch. Drew set to sorting through his tackle box, looking for a specific lure. He was vaguely aware of a couple more men joining Cam and Derrick beside the wagon, but was so involved in his search he didn't realize someone had spoken to him until Derrick reached over and knocked his knuckles against the wagon. Earth to fishermen, Derrick said. What was that? Just wondering why you weren't joining us this morning, Derrick said. Oh Drew covered a yawn. I think there are plenty of you. Besides, I like fish. Derrick nodded. And where is your girl Cass? Adam's tone was not light or quiet as befitted the morning. Thought she was the great hunter in your group. I haven't seen it. Drew raised an eyebrow at the sudden hostility, but before he could reply, Cam spoke up. Her arm is troubling her, he said. I told her to take it easy. Drew tried to keep his face passive, not sure why Cam was lying. He didn't know why Cass wasn't hunting, but he suspected it had more to do with her distaste for the company than any physical ailment, especially since her wound was healing fine. He felt Adam watching him as he turned back to his tackle box and snapped the closure. His eyes met Cam's and he gave a nod. Good luck, he said, walking away with his gear in hand and his dog trotting close behind. Cass knelt, panting and glaring up at the sun, exhausted. Billy's butt was planted in the grass nearby, his feet on the ground in front of him, making his knees jut into the air. It was comical, until he put his lips to the water bottle and swallowed, his Adam's apple moving with each gulp. He pulled the bottle away, leaving a bead of dampness decorating his lower lip. She thought of the wine. He poured some of the liquid into his palm and trickled it onto his head, running his hands through his hair and bringing them to rest on the back of his neck. Wet, blonde tendrils fell forward against his cheeks, and Cass looked away. She'd awakened this morning terrified, terrified of moments like this. Moments alone with him in the heat, adrenaline already coursing through her, the two of them panting as they tracked each other's bodies. Granted, they were supposed to be planning and defending against punches and holds, but Cass's mind was unfocused today. She shook her head. Her mind was always unfocused with Billy. What's wrong? he asked. His voice was husky from exertion, a fact which didn't help her come up with an excuse about what she'd been thinking. Nothing. I know what you're thinking. Cass held her breath as her inside sunk deeper into her abdomen. You're thinking I'm doomed, and you're doomed to continue watching over me, because your grandmother could probably kick my ass. Cass faked a chuckle, relieved. I never knew my grandma, she said. And you're not doing so bad. I swear it's like you've done this all before. You're a quick learner. Billy smiled. I did get in a couple hits on you. I think you might even have felt one of them. Cass's smile was real now. He had gotten her. She'd been thrilled, not only because he was learning to take care of himself, but also because the shock of the slight pain had helped her focus. As her smile faded, she realized Billy's expression had also changed. His brow was creased in a frown, and he dug his hands into the dry grass on either side of him. Okay, she said, drawing his gaze. Now what's wrong with you? Though her tone had been playful, he didn't smile. In fact, he looked ill. I have to tell you something, he began. Cass leaned back a bit, steadying herself for what promised to be a serious conversation. But Lena and Darcy jogged past just then, laughing together, which was a strange enough sight to pull both Cass's and Billy's attention. Weylon was following along behind the girls, and he slowed. With a quick glance between the two sweat stained and flushed figures, he told Cass the hunters had returned, and were looking for help bringing in the meat. Cass nodded as Weyland left. Their horses will need to be looked after too. We better go. Billy looked relieved. He was already getting to his feet, and she was a bit disappointed he wasn't more sore and tired from the workout. Maybe she'd been too easy on him. He offered her a hand up, but she pretended not to notice and stood on her own. They picked up a jog side by side, and Cass was struck by the now familiar and terrifying desire always to be as close to him as possible. You're not tired enough yet, she said. Says you. As they came to the edge of camp, Cass spotted at least three horses with deer carcasses on their backs. She frowned when she saw Cowboy among them. He'd never been one for packing meat, and he'd be a nervous wreck. She increased her pace. In the clamor of people eager to thank the hunters for the food, Derek hadn't noticed Cass and Billy run up. He hadn't been expecting them, but as soon as he heard Adam's raised voice he knew who it was directed toward. Lying to your brother now. Anything to get a little extra time with your boy. What? Cass kept her tone cool, but her face was flushed. So was Billy's. It seemed they had run here together, though their clothes were too sweaty and rumpled for just a short run. I didn't lie to Cam. She looked around for Cam and spotted him, but her brother had not yet seen her.

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Wasn't bugging you too much for rollin' around in the grass with our pretty parolee, was it? Derrick confirmed with a glance. Cass' arm seemed fine. It wasn't bandaged anymore. Adam was advancing on Cass, stepping into her space, causing the horse she held, the skittish one she usually rode, to flail its head away. She didn't step back, not that Derrick expected her to. He moved toward the commotion. Their argument was drawing a crowd. Cass handed the horse's lead to Billy and stepped forward and away from the animal, brushing against Adam's shoulder as she did. Adam followed her, pushing his chest against her shoulder as she moved, changing her course. Someone in the crowd gasped. Derek felt emotion battling in his brain. On one hand, this was just what he wanted. He wanted public opinion turned against Billy. He wanted Cass on her heels. But seeing Adam get physical with her was setting off alarms in his head. Derek couldn't hear the whispered conversation between the two of them, but Cass, finding her exit blocked by onlookers, stopped and spoke loud and clear. We were sparring. I'm teaching Billy to defend himself. Bullshit, Adam said. You're visiting the bone yard. The term brought Derrick's time in prison to mind and his back stiffened. He could tell Cass understood Adam's meaning, if not where the phrase had come from. He stepped a bit closer to the two of them. That's enough, Adam. But Adam began to protest, fueling the fire that had begun to burn behind Derrick's eyes. He felt his fists clenching beside him. The woman can do what she wants, Derek said. Who she wants, said a voice in the crowd. Derrick couldn't place it. David and Rain were decent people. Adam directed this comment at Cass, his face so close she flinched as Spittle flew from his mouth. Adam turned back to Derrick, lifting a pointed finger at Cass. They're dead because this bitch was spreading for some Adam's words were cut off by Cass's fist slamming into his face. Since he'd been facing Derek, she'd gotten him in the mouth, and he stumbled back, unbalanced by the surprise hit. Cass was quick, diving in and landing a second blow to Adam's gut with her left hand. The hit wasn't hard, but Adam stumbled a bit, causing the horse behind him to shy away. Billy maneuvered around, trying to direct the horse through the crowd, telling people to step back. Cass had eased her attack, perhaps intending to stop, but Adam had let the hit rotate his upper body for a reason. As he swung back around, he lifted his arm and backhanded Cass hard across the face. She grunted and caught herself, managing not to fall flat but to go down on one knee. Derek was running forward, knowing she wouldn't recover in time. Adam had already raised his fist and was powering it down toward Cass's face. Derek let the swirl of hot red take his body, and he tackled Adam to the ground. He landed on the smaller man, shoving downward as if the tackle couldn't drive him deep enough into the ground. Adam had raised one hand up by his face in surrender, with no intention of striking his leader, but Derrick couldn't let it go. Adam had hit a woman. Adam had single handedly gone too far and pushed the public opinion out of Derrick's favor. People would care for Cass again if they saw her feminine face bruised at the hand of Derrick's second. He cracked first his right, then his left fist into Adam's face. The skin on his right knuckles split with the third hit, but the spray of blood was coming from Adam's broken lip, not his own hand. As the fourth and fifth blows landed, Derrick could hear voices of protest through the ringing of his ears. His sixth punch ruptured a tooth from Adam's jaw. He knew the feeling and the sound of it from experience. Memories of his days in the ring came washing back, causing him to pause. He'd have been thrown out for behavior like this. In his peripheral vision he could see Cam and Hank coming at him from both sides, ready to pull him away. He raised a hand palm flat in Cam's direction. As his anger faded he knew he needed to salvage his reputation. He shouldn't have done this. Still his muscles craved more of the familiar violence. Adam was conscious, though bruised and bloodied, one eye was already beginning to swell beneath the splatter of blood. Derek took a deep breath, gritting his teeth. When I say enough, he growled, I mean enough. Derek shoved himself up from his victim, kneeing Adam in the stomach as he did so. He ended the discussion with a relatively soft kick to Adam's ribs. He glanced up to see the somewhat pale face of another of his men in the crowd nearby. He couldn't remember the man's name through the swirl of hazy anger. Get him up, he said, straightening his jacket and moving away. The crowd began to part for him, but he stopped and glanced at Cass. She was on both knees now, her hands limp beside her body. Her eyes were wide and her brow creased. Already her red cheekbone was darkening into purple. You okay? he asked. I started it, she said, breathless. He needs discipline, Derek said. He left, regretting those last words. Hello, listeners. Thank you, thank you so much for tuning in to Chapter 12 of The Scarring Underneath. Come back each week for a new chapter, or if you can't wait, the ebook and paperback editions are available at the major online retailers, and the paperback is available at this House of Books in Billings, Montana. Visit Tstickerson.com for direct links.